


An Actress from America

by fanwarrior



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanwarrior/pseuds/fanwarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John invites a young actress to stay with them at Baker Street.  Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> GA for now, but the rating may change later down the road...

**Prologue**

“Hey, I’m home!” Samantha called as she threw her keys on the kitchen counter before placing the bag of take away next to them.  “I missed you tonight.”  There was no response.  “Babe?”  She crossed the small flat to the bedroom, peaking in through the open door.  “Did you fall asleep before I could get back again?”  There was no one on the bed.  “Huh.”

She was digging through her purse to find her phone as she walked back to the kitchen when she noticed something irregular out of the corner of her eye.  When she turned to get a full view of it, she froze, dropping the full contents of her bag.  The bloodcurdling scream that followed woke all of her neighbors.

 

**Chapter One**

John had just managed to drift off to sleep during one of Sherlock’s most spectacularly boring lectures before the sharp trill of the consulting detective’s phone woke him up.  He had practically fallen asleep again during the taxi ride.  It was the middle of the night and they were on their way to a murder scene, definitely against John’s wishes.  Sherlock was not even that excited about the specific case, but it had been too long since their last one – a full two and a half days – so he had jumped at the chance.  John knew it would be worth it to go.  Sherlock would solve the case in the blink of an eye and then be contented enough to not talk John’s ear off, allowing him to finally get some sleep.

Lestrade approached them as soon as they walked up to the building, and began briefing them as they made their way into the flat.

“Craig Williams, 29, last seen this afternoon around three at The Hole, a small theatre just outside of the city.  Axe to the left side of the face, weapon’s still embedded, no apparent forced entry or exit.  He was found by his girlfriend…” Lestrade pointed through a doorway on the right side of the flat.  The young woman was sitting on the foot of the bed, gripping an orange shock blanket with her left hand and the bedspread with her right.

“We haven’t been able to get anything out of her,” Lestrade said as Sherlock glided over to the body.  He crouched down beside it, mumbling to himself for a minute before straightening up and turning back to the Detective Inspector.

“Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we.”

His stride was stopped short by Lestrade.

"She's American, just so you know."

John realized this was going to be a very long night.

 

* * *

 

Samantha could not remember how long she had been staring at the floor.  She could barely recall flashes from throughout the night: screaming and blood, her neighbor pounding on the door, sirens followed by a flash of orange, and then staring at the floor at the foot of Craig’s bed.  Or what had been Craig’s bed.  All of a sudden, she felt a lightly calloused hand upon hers.  She looked up into the face of a new man, he was not a neighbor and certainly did not appear to be police.  He looked about forty, with greying hair and a worried, albeit slightly exasperated look on his face.  Although she could not place him, he seemed vaguely familiar to her.  She could feel her eyes bulging as she stared at him, but could not bring herself to blink knowing that the tears might start then.  Finally she lost her resolve and quickly became a blubbering mess, pulling her hand out from under the man’s in order to wipe her eyes with the blanket.

“Oh, Christ, now what can I do with that?”  Samantha was momentarily confused when she realized it was not the man in front of her who was speaking.  She looked behind him to find a wholly unfamiliar man with a disdainful look on his face.  He was taller than the first man, and wrapped in a long, dark coat with the collar turned up.  He had dark, slightly curly hair, which made his piercing eyes stand out even more from his pale face.  They stared at each other for a moment, both trying to figure the other one out.  Samantha finally had to drop her gaze, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself, trying to stop her tears.

“What he means to say,” the man nearer to her pulled her attention back, “is that we need to know what happened.  Exactly everything as you saw it.”

She took a shuddering breath before opening her mouth to speak.

The tall man cut her off.  “You’ve been here two months.  What do you do with The Hole?”

Samantha’s mouth was still open, but now in awe.  “I… Who are you?” was all she managed to squeak out.

The taller man huffed.

“Of course, sorry.  I’m John Watson, and he’s Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.”

“Oh!”  She sniffed.  “That’s why you looked familiar.”  She gestured to John.  “My boyfriend reads your blog – ” She stopped as she realized her mistake, dissolving into tears once more.  A couple of minutes passed while John tried to calm her down again as Sherlock remained leaning against the door frame, huffing.

“I’m so sorry!  It’s just – ”

“No need to apologize; we completely understand.”  John shot a look over to Sherlock.  “He does too even if it doesn’t show.”  She nodded, looking down at her lap.

“I’m an actress, doing a show with them right now.”  She looked up at Sherlock, who almost looked surprised at the direct eye contact for a brief moment.  “They had auditions in New York, that’s where I was.  We had to pay our own way over, but it was still a job.”  She gave a small smile to the floor.  “I needed one.”  She shifted her focus back to John.  “I had just gotten home from a show and was looking for Craig when I found him – ” She gestured out to the main room of the flat.  She brought her hand to her mouth and paused again to compose herself.  “It’s really kind of a blur from there.  I screamed and then my neighbors were over here and I may have passed out, I don’t know, I am sorry.”

John was about to say something when Sherlock cut him off.  “It’s fine, we have what we need.”  He was about to turn out of the room when John spoke.

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked her.  “I mean, do you have somewhere to go?”

“I, uh – ” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hand.  “I’ll find a hotel.”  She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if to clear it, missing the expressive glances the two men shared with each other: John’s slightly pleading, Sherlock’s as defiant as ever.  “It’ll be fine, I’ll – ”

“No, come with us.  We have room and then you won’t have to deal with a hotel in the middle of the night.”  Samantha stared at John in disbelief.  “It’ll be better.”

“Thank you…” Her hesitation was apparent to Sherlock, but John seemed to miss it.

“We have to stop somewhere for food though, I’m starving.”

“There’s cold take out on the counter if you want it,” she managed to get out before the tears started pouring again.

“Oh excellent!” he declared as he started to make his way back to the kitchen.

“John.”  Sherlock grabbed him by the arm.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You needed something to keep you from boredom, said so yourself.  Well here you go.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said through his teeth as he followed his partner out of the bedroom.

“Well you better help her pack because I’m going to eat.  Oh Thai!”  He exclaimed as he opened the box and grabbed a fork.  “I’ll meet you two downstairs; I’ll call a taxi.”  John was out the door before Sherlock could protest any more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this has taken me an embarrassingly long time to get up here, so hopefully I've made enough progress in my life to get the rest of it out more timely. We shall see...

Sherlock was squished up in the middle of the back of a taxi. He had his hands on his knees and was staring straight ahead, trying to think about the facts of the case as opposed to the injustice of his current predicament. He was doing his best to touch neither the sniffling woman to his left nor John to his right, who was still wolfing down the forgotten Thai food. By the time they stopped outside of 221 Baker Street, Sherlock was ready to bolt, that is, until he remembered that both of his exits were still blocked. The woman had no idea where they were going so obviously was not going to get out without some encouragement, although Sherlock doubted she would have been able to do anything without help based on her current melancholy state. And John had been too busy with his food to be ready to get out. He was now fumbling around for his wallet with one hand while precariously balancing the food with the other.

  
“Here take this,” John said, thrusting the container into Sherlock’s lap as he flipped through the bills in his wallet. “Thanks,” he said to the driver, followed by a “Thank you” directed at Sherlock as he lifted the box from his hands. As he began to open the door, Sherlock felt the woman shift to open the other. He let out a breath of relief as the chilly air hit his face. He was out of the car as soon as possible, practically stepping on his partner’s heels.

  
“I hope you know I am never sitting in the middle of a taxi again,” Sherlock hissed at John after he had closed the door.

  
“Well I couldn’t have very well put her in the middle. I didn’t want her to feel trapped,” John explained in a hushed tone as the two men walked up to their door.

  
“Well you could have sat in the front.”

  
“Everyone knows that’s weird.” John had removed the key and was busy with the lock, forgetting to keep whispering.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean anybody does it.”

Sherlock looked like he was about to keep arguing, but thought better of it.

“Fine. I’ll do it next time.”

“Yeah, well, weird suits you better anyways,” John said at a full volume. The woman had just come up on the sidewalk after getting her bag from the boot and both men turned at the movement. Sherlock noticed a small smile ghosting over her lips.

“Shall we?” John asked, throwing the door open. Sherlock stormed through and took the stairs two at a time, purposefully leaving the other two behind.

\-------------

As they finished climbing the stairs, John turned to the woman behind him.

“Thanks again for the food. It really hit the spot.”

She smiled and nodded emphatically, but John could still see the tears swimming in her eyes.

“Tea?” he asked as they walked through the door.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered. John was unsurprised to see him already deep in thought in his chairs.

John turned to the woman.

“Yes, please,” she said

He was halfway through brewing the pot before she spoke again.

“Am I here?”

John looked over to see her sitting on the edge of their sofa, rubbing one of her hands over a cushion. She had moved her bag over with her, apparently with the intention of spending the night there.

“Oh no, well…” He paused, walking out of the kitchen and turning to his partner. “You won’t be sleeping tonight, will you, Sherlock?”

“No, of course not,” he snapped, as if John should know. Then his eyebrows knitted even closer together. “Why?”

“Well I thought our guest could take your room, since you so rarely use it.” John had a sudden though. “You know, I’m really sorry, I didn’t get your name in all of the excitement.” He hoped she could see how bad he felt about it; looking back on it now, he feared he’d been a little forward about the take away.

“Oh,” she started as though the thought had not crossed her mind either. “Samantha. Samantha Wilde.”

“What’s your real name?” Sherlock asked even though he had not appeared to be paying attention.

“What?”

“That’s a stage name. What’s your real name?” He looked at her with annoyance plainly written on his face.

“Samantha Smith.” She scoffed. “Couldn’t have used that, now could I?”

Sherlock said nothing, apparently back in thought about the case.

“Well, Samantha, welcome to Baker Street. You’ll get used to him. At least a little bit,” John said with a smile. He pointed to an open door. “That’s Sherlock’s room in there. Can I get your bag for you?”

“Oh no it’s fine, thank you though.” She rose and started moving towards the room. John gave a polite nod.

“I’ll just bring your tea in when it’s done if that’s okay with you.”

“Thank you.” She gave a small sad smile before disappearing into Sherlock’s room. The door clicked softly behind her. John turned back to Sherlock. Even though he had appeared deep in thought, his partner had flicked his eyes up to John, leaving his fingertips touching underneath his chin. John opened his mouth and took a breath in as though he was going to speak, but then stopped. Sherlock gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and closed his eyes, retreating back into his mind palace.

When John came into the room later, Samantha was curled up in the fetal position on the bed. She was still in her clothes and John thought he could see the tracks of her tears as he placed a blanket over her.


End file.
